


When It's Bad, It's Awful

by Keysmasher



Series: Good Girl [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Beating, Castiel Saves The Day, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keysmasher/pseuds/Keysmasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She really, REALLY needs to get better at picking her boyfriends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It's Bad, It's Awful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deansfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansfangirl/gifts).



> I wanted some h/c, and deansfangirl wanted a name. Thus this fic was born.

She _had_ to stop doing this.

Mark. Her third boyfriend, ever - not counting Sam and Dean and Cas, because they weren't boyfriends so much as fuck-buddies. More than that, they'd actually treated her well.

She'd left Jim the first time he raised his voice and called her a bitch because she didn't want to go down on him. She'd left Jeff when he told her he would kill her dog.

And now Mark was telling her she was a fucking bitch and that she was overreacting when she got upset.

"No, I'm not fucking overreacting," she seethed.

"Yes, you are! It's just a word. Jesus, it doesn't even mean anything."

She took a deep breath in through her nose to keep from losing her temper. "You are so wrong right now I don't even have words for it."

"You're being a fucking chick about it!"

"Of course I'm being a fucking chick, I _am_ a fucking chick," she snapped. "Sorry you don't like me having emotions."

He snarled, "Of course I don’t fucking care if you feel, you're a _girl_." He said it like an insult, and she eyed the door, wondering how fast she could get out if she needed to. "It's not like you're a dude."

Her eyelid twitched; she tried to keep her cool. "Maybe we should have this conversation when we've both calmed down."

"Fuck you, I am calm." He threw the table lamp at the wall.

 _Yeah. Time to leave._ "I'll be back later," she said vaguely, edging toward the door and having absolutely no intention of ever contacting him again. She'd have to change her phone number, which was a pain in the ass, but it was doable. She just wished she hadn't wasted a month of her life on yet another unstable asshole.

"Back?" He moved quickly to block the door.

She swallowed. The bathroom had a lock, but he could kick the door down. Her best shot was to calm him down.

These things would not have occurred to her before Jeff broke her arm.

"Mark," she tried. "Come on. We're both upset. If I stay, we're both going to regret what happens-"

She didn't even see the fist coming, but it knocked her on her ass. "Don't _tell_ me what I'm gonna regret," he growled. She groped blindly to her sides for something she could use to get off the floor; there was no way she was taking her eyes off him. He frowned. "Now look what you made me do."

She scrambled to her feet, and her temper, tightly leashed for so long, erupted. "Made you do? _Made_ you do? No. Fuck you. You fucking _chose-_ "

Another punch, and she landed on the floor. This time she felt something in her hip crack on impact, and she couldn't help the gasp of pain. He advanced on her, and _shit_ , she couldn't even get away, not with a broken hip.

A kick to the midsection. "Why are you doing this?" One to the arm. "Fucking trash, dragging me down to your level." Grinding his heel into her hand. "Fucking _nothing_ without me." A stomp to the ribs. He dropped to straddle her chest and started pounding down on her, telling her she was a useless piece of shit. She felt her glasses break, the plastic gouging her nose. A tooth fell into the back of her mouth.

 _God, please, just let me get out of here alive,_ she thought desperately, still not sure if she even believed, when a rib snapped and her darkened vision streaked through with red. _Please, let me survive this._

Then someone pulled him off her. She looked through bleary, swollen eyes and got an impression of beige and black and not much else. The beige got closer, and she squinted - was that a hand?

The pain vanished, her eyes cleared, and her glasses fit themselves back onto her nose. She looked up into the impassive face of Cas.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah." She felt blood rush to her face. "Uh, what brought you here?"

"Allow me to deal with the...other one." She didn’t think she imagined the disgust that flickered across his face. "Then we'll talk."

She nodded, and he strode away to where he'd tossed Mark, who was lying facedown on the floor. She swallowed and turned away to find her purse, not quite sure what she wanted to happen but damn sure she wanted to take care of it herself and wouldn't get the chance, not with Cas looking like he was about to bring the wrath of God down on Mark.

She didn't quite know why he was so angry, but she thought it might have something to do with what he'd said to her the last time they were together, that she was worth affection. Then again, she may just be being a selfish brat about it. This may not be about her at all, but about Mark.

"No," Cas said, and she faced him to see he had Mark pinned to the wall. "This is about you. And him, I suppose, but mostly you."

"Oh." She finally spotted her purse, half under the couch, and grabbed it. "Uh, why?"

"Because he hit you."

She waited for the rest of it; when it didn't come, she prompted, "And?"

She saw Cas's hand spasm around Mark's throat and was temporarily, spitefully glad. "You thought he was going to kill you."

"And? Why does that matter?" She realized how it sounded and hastily blathered on, "I mean, it matters to me, obviously, but why would it matter to you?"

Cas let go of Mark's throat, and she had a moment of strange happiness Cas wasn't going to kill him. She didn't particularly want to witness a murder, not when she'd be the prime suspect. But then Cas pinned her with his eyes, and the happiness fled. She wanted to shrivel into nothing, into a blackened, withered husk of herself.

"We should go," Cas said mildly. 

Defensiveness rose like bile. "I tried to."

Cas ignored her tone. "Did you drive?"

She shook her head. "We met at the park, and he drove."

He gripped her arm and she blinked. Her gut twisted; it felt like she was being pulled apart at the seams, breaking into tiny pieces, but then it stopped abruptly, lingering nausea and dizziness the only indicators anything at all had happened. She wrapped a hand around his arm and gripped it, fighting to keep steady on her feet - she knew Cas could heal her if she passed out, but she refused to suffer yet another indignity.

"How long are you staying?" she asked instead. "I can put on coffee-"

"I do not require drink," he interrupted. "I can stay as long as you wish."

She nodded. "You don't have to. Stay, I mean. If you don't want to." She really fucking wanted him to stay, wanted his solid, immoveable presence, but he was a fucking angel and she was a stupid little girl who dated men that liked to beat on her when she tried to break up with them before it got to that point.

"I believe I do want to," he said thoughtfully. She didn't know what to do but nod, but Cas - who seemed to lack certain social graces; it was equal parts annoying and relieving- asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?"

She shrugged. "He called me a bitch. I tried to leave before he got physical, because I could see it coming. Obviously, I didn't make it out in time. Why did you show up?"

"You prayed," he said simply. "It appears I have a...connection, to those I have intimate knowledge of. I hear your prayers as though they were addressed to me. When you were begging for your life, I became concerned."

She blinked back tears. "Well, thanks. Uh, would you like to sit?"

He cocked his head. "Would that help you?"

She shrugged. "It's all the same to me," she managed through a closing throat.

"Let's sit." He towed her gently to the couch. "What would help right now?"

She shrugged helplessly. She didn't have friends, or family in the town, and she'd never really been in a situation like this, so she wasn't quite sure. She asked anyway, "Can you just...hold me? Until you have to go?"

"Of course." He wrapped an arm carefully around her shoulders, and she turned into him, kicking off her shoes so she could fold her legs under her and burrow into his chest as the tears came, ripping sobs from her throat.

His other arm encircled her, and he pulled her carefully closer. "You're okay, Maria," he murmured, carefully rubbing her back in a way that strangely didn't hurt. "You're all right."


End file.
